


give me a reason

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-05
Updated: 2007-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:39:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8745184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: All Sam wants is a reason, but that might be the one thing Dean can't give him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

“You want to fucking talk about loyalty?” Dean yelled, slamming his fist on the table hard enough to make the half empty beer bottles in front of him jump and rattle with the force of his anger. “Fuck, Sam, do you even know what loyalty means _college boy_?”

 

The sneer in Dean’s voice almost had Sam recoiling, his brother’s eyes flashing dangerously. This was how Dean felt about him, about his decision. Every time he’d brought up college, the SATs, applications, any of it he’d gone quiet or started a fight. Whatever he had to do to get himself out of the room, but never once had he come out and said what he thought about the idea. 

 

Until now.

 

If the six pack of half empty beers in front of his brother hadn’t been a big enough tip off, then the disgust and anger in his voice now was. The acceptance letter had come in the mail today before he’d gotten home from school. 

 

And that was why he was here now, watching his brother warily from across the table, his fists clenched tightly at his side. Not because he wanted to hit Dean, but because he wanted to touch him. 

 

Sam knew where that would get him if he tried it now. Dean was too far gone, too angry to be accepting of any comfort or love. Truthfully Sam wished he _could_ be angry with Dean, but he couldn’t. 

 

He couldn’t blame him for being angry or hurt. If Dean had applied to colleges without telling him, he would have felt the same way.

 

Abandoned.

 

But Dean didn’t get it. Sam couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t go to college without Dean with him. Their lives were too entwined for him to ever truly be far from Dean. They’d been wrapped up in each other from the day he was born. And there was no escaping that kind of bond. 

 

Like he even wanted to.

 

What could he do now though? Things had backfired on him big time and before he could prepare Dean for this, or even suggest it his brother had found out on his own. The one damn day he actually got the mail before Sam. 

 

It explained why he hadn’t picked Sam up from school today. When he’d walked out into the parking lot, the familiar sight of the Impala and his grinning brother weren’t there to greet him. 

 

And that scared him.

 

The only time Dean had ever not picked him up was when he was too hurt. When something bad had happened. It wasn’t that school was too far from home for Sam to walk, but Dean insisted on picking him up. Every day, for whatever reason. 

 

Sam had frowned and readjusted his backpack before quickly heading home. He’d bit down hard enough on his lip to bleed in an effort to keep the different images of Dean bloodied and bruised from his mind. Because the last time…the last time had been bad. And dad had just left Dean back at the motel and gone off on another hunt, because Dean couldn’t just fucking say he needed someone. 

 

He’d yelled for Dean, slamming through the front door as if his life depended on it, or more accurately his brother’s, his backpack flying into the living room and knocking over the lamp with a loud crash. He’d be in serious trouble when dad found out but he really didn’t give a damn right now. Skidding into the kitchen he’d slammed into the side of the counter in an effort to stop himself when he caught sight of his brother, head bent over the table. 

 

He’d been confused at first to see his brother just sitting there, appearing fine. At least physically. Since when did Dean have emotional breakdowns? That thought had made him snort and shake his head. Never. That just wasn’t Dean.

 

Except, maybe it was. 

 

Under the right circumstances anyway. 

 

“Dean?” he asked nervously, stepping closer. 

 

The stench of beer wafted up to greet him before he’d even reached Dean. It was obvious his brother had been drinking. A lot. He placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder, growing more worried at his silence. 

 

Dean had jerked away so violently he’d slammed the table backward a few inches, knocking over a few beer bottles Sam had smelled more than seen. Sam’s worry grew. His brother didn’t shy away from his touch, not anymore. It had taken a long time for things to get that way, but they’d gotten there. 

 

Somehow.

 

He opened his mouth, not sure yet of what he would say, when he spotted the large envelope that lay on the table. 

 

Stanford.

 

An acceptance letter to Stanford. And a full scholarship he would later find out from his angry and half drunk older brother. He’d done it; he’d actually made it into Ivy League.

 

“Dean-“

 

“Congratulations, Sammy. A full ride baby brother. I guess all that hard work paid off.”

 

He tilted his head up then and smiled at Sam. 

 

It didn’t reach his eyes. 

 

So that was how he was going to play it. Distant and false. Like he treated everyone else. 

 

But Sam wasn’t everyone else. And Dean shouldn’t treat him like he was. It was Sam’s turn to be angry now. 

 

“Don’t bullshit me,” he snapped. 

 

Dean’s grin faltered then quickly strengthened. “Sit down Sam, have a drink.” 

 

Sam shook his head. This wasn’t a game. They needed to talk about this. 

 

His brother gestured to the chair across the table from him, waiting for Sam to take a seat. He hesitated a second, wondering if sitting down was the best idea for this conversation, or this fight as it would soon be. No conversation about college and about Sam’s leaving or not leaving, could be anything but violent. 

 

Against his better judgment he sat down across from Dean. If he took the confrontational route first things were over before they even started. His anger at being treated like he wasn’t something more than those that Dean held at distance had been more than even he could stomach and he’d had his outburst. But that’s where it would end. He wasn’t playing games, wasn’t starting any fights. 

 

He was going to explain to Dean that he wasn’t going anywhere, not without him. And then everything would calm down. They’d talk things over before dad got home and if Dean decided to go with him they’d face dad together. But if he refused, then there was nothing to talk about. 

 

Just an acceptance letter to forget. 

 

“Ivy League Sam, that’s….that’s really something,” Dean said, chugging what was left of the beer in front of him.

 

There it was. The breaking point. He’d gone from Sammy to Sam in moments, like the faltering grin. Dean could only play it cool for so long, all it would take was one wrong word and every false pretense would be gone. 

 

Better to just start now before Dean could think of some other defense. 

 

“Dean, you know how I feel about you…”

 

He wasn’t going to talk about this; wasn’t doing the chick flick thing just because he wasn’t good enough to keep his little brother around after all they’d been through. That was just adding insult to injury and he wasn’t going to sit here and listen to this crap.

 

He slammed the beer bottle back on the table, his chair scraping loudly across the kitchen floor as he climbed to his feet. “Good luck.”

 

“Dean, stop. Stop pushing me away and just talk to me! Instead of leaving every time things get tough-“ 

 

God dammit. He just wouldn’t let him say anything; wouldn’t listen to anything he had to say! How the hell was he supposed to explain things, fix things if Dean wouldn’t listen to him for two god damn minutes.

 

“You’re the one leaving Sam, not me,” Dean pointed out angrily. 

 

“I’m not leaving-“

 

He cut him off again. “Then what do you call abandoning your family? And not even bothering to tell them? Do you have any idea what dad is going to say when he gets home?”

 

Dad. It always came down to dad. It couldn’t be about them, about how this affected Dean. It always had to be about dad. There was no way Dean would leave with him, because that would mean choosing Sam over him. 

 

It was never going to happen. 

 

“What does it matter Dean? Your loyalty to dad will always come before everything else. Even me, right?” he spat, his own heart breaking at the words he’d meant to hurt his brother. 

 

And that was what had led them here. To this exact moment where brother glared at brother, each hurting and neither willing to be the first to say it. 

 

Sam shook his head. He was only making things worse. Dammit, why had Dean chosen today of all days to get the mail? Couldn’t he have sent Sam to get it once they were home? 

 

“Dean-“he tried, his voice softer.

 

But Dean cut him off quickly, not wanting to hear anything out of Sam’s mouth other then I’m not going. And he knew that wasn’t coming any time soon. Not dad, not even Dean, would be able to stop Sam from leaving. Neither could possibly make Sam want to stay.

 

“I guess that’s what I get for talking dad into staying here, letting you finish out high school in the same place,” he snorted in disgust and shook his head. “It’s my fault.”

 

“Dammit, Dean!” he snapped. “That’s not it! Would you just listen to me?!”

 

Dean always did this, always blamed himself no matter what. Sam couldn’t have done anything wrong, couldn’t have made his own decision. Not if things went badly. If they went badly it was because Dean had made the mistake and no one else. 

 

Stubborn bastard. 

 

“What, listen to how your family isn’t good enough? Isn’t normal enough to make you happy? Leave, Sam. If we can’t make you happy, then just leave. It’s for the best.”

 

That wasn’t it! It wasn’t that they didn’t make him happy, that’s all Dean ever did. He’d made it his life mission to make Sam happy and to keep him safe no matter what the cost to him. It had nothing to do with how Dean made Sam feel and everything to do with a better life for the both of them.

 

For once Sam wanted to be able to give something in return to the older brother who’d taken care of him his entire life. And if he got accepted to college he could leave, Dean could leave with him, and they could have a real life. No more hunting, no more risking their lives over and over again with little comfort other then each other. Comfort that only came in the dark or stolen kisses when dad wasn’t around. 

 

“Dean, please,” he heard himself beg before Dean cut him off again. 

 

“Leave, Sam. Just go.”


	2. Chapter 2

  
Author's notes: Okay, it's finally here. The conclusion to Give Me A Reason. StarCherrieQueen and I have been talking and this was apparently her favorite. I figured the least I could do was finish this up and post it. After all most of it was already done, just a few things here and there. So here it is. I so love reviews and love talking to you guys, so don't hesitate to PM or review! Much love, and I hope you enjoy it! Oh, and please don't kill me for this  


* * *

If that was what Dean wanted, then he’d leave. He’d go to Stanford and try to forget everything he’d ever known. Failing miserably. But if it was what Dean wanted, then he’d do it. No matter _what_ that meant for him.

 

“Is that what you want?” Sam asked hoarsely. “Me to leave?”

 

“Isn’t that what you want?”

 

“No. It isn’t.” Sam swallowed hard and waited for Dean to tell him to leave again. For his brother to push him away one last time and end everything they’d had with just one damn word.

 

_Leave._

 

Dean sighed. “Things won’t ever be normal here Sam. You’d be better off at Stanford.”

 

“No, I wouldn’t.” _Not with you hating me_ , he thought to himself.

 

“You’d be better off without us,” Dean tried again.

 

“No, I wouldn’t,” he repeated.

 

He’d be better off without hunting, he’d be better off without all their fighting, he’d be better off without the never sticking around in one place. But he would _never_ , be better off without Dean.

 

xXx

 

Dean frowned and looked Sam over. He didn’t understand what had changed with him. He’d always wanted away from this life. What had changed now?

 

“You got in to Stanford, college boy, full ride. It’d be really stupid not to go. And you’re anything but stupid.”

 

“It’s just college. I could go anywhere, anytime. Like high school.”

 

“No, you couldn’t. It’s not the same. This is Stanford, Sam.”

 

“I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want you to hate me,” Sam insisted quietly.

 

Dean’s fists clenched at his side. He wasn’t sure why it made him so angry. Sam was being honest with him, was telling him exactly what he wanted to know, what he wanted to hear. And that made him angry, like he was playing with him. But Sam wouldn’t do that and he knew it. So what the hell was going on with him?

 

“Spare me,” he sneered. “You didn’t apply so you could stay in this dead end life with me. This is Stanford. This is what you wanted.”

 

xXx

 

“Dean, you don’t-” Sam tried earnestly.

 

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean snapped.

 

“Please, if you would just-”

 

“Shut. Up.” Dean’s voice was hard and empty. More than enough warning for him to back off.

 

Sam sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. If he would just let him explain, they could work this out. He could tell him he meant it, he didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to leave him. Could never leave him.

 

Not when he knew he could have Dean like this. Could make Dean happy. Could give him something back.

 

“Why won’t you-”

 

“This is what you wanted Sam,” he interrupted a third time. “This is what you worked for. Don’t throw it away.”

 

No.

 

_Fuck_.

 

Dean was what he wanted. Stanford was what he could _have_. 

 

There was a huge difference.

 

xXx

 

If Sam kept talking like that, he wasn’t going to make it to Stanford, he wasn’t going to make it out of this _room_. Dean only had so much self control and Sam was pushing every button he had.

 

Sam sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing worriedly at the soft flesh. He looked like he was about to say something else, some other heart wrenching form of, _I love, but…you’re not enough_.

 

Before he knew what was happening he was throwing Sam down onto the kitchen table, and jerking his pants down. The beer bottles lay shattered on the floor, the chairs overturned. His sense of self preservation kicking in before Sam can say another thing to claw and tear at what was left of his heart.

 

Sam lay stunned, his chocolate brown eyes wide and hot as Dean pressed against him. He may not have been expecting it, but he wanted it just as much as Dean did. His hands found purchase in Dean’s thin cotton shirt, his long legs wrapping around his waist.

 

“Dean,” he gasped, his chest heaving as his breath changed, from angry and scared to desperate and wanting.

 

He couldn’t give Sam what he needed, he couldn’t take the place of Stanford, and he couldn’t give him normal. But he could give him _this_.

 

Dean tried to fight back his anger and make this good for Sam, but the more he thought about that, the more he hurt. The more he wanted Sam to hurt. He jerked Sam’s boxers down, his brief moment of softness gone.

 

“You want this too, Sammy? You want Stanford and you want normal…you want your _brother_ to fuck you too?” he hissed, biting down on Sam’s bottom lip.

 

“Yes,” Sam whimpered, his hips jerking up to meet Dean’s. “Fuck, Dean, yes.”

 

“Say it,” Dean demanded.

 

“What?” he breathed, his voice dreamy and distant as he ground his hips into Dean’s.

 

“Say you want this.” Dean slammed his hips back on the table, forcing him to focus on what he was saying, instead of the throbbing between his legs. “Say it.”

 

“I want this. Dean, I want this,” he panted. “I’ll fucking say whatever you want, just, please. Dean, please.”

 

It wasn’t fair. He could want normal and want Dean, could say it all in one breath, and not flinch. Could sound so fucking needy and _hot_ , and still be his Sammy. He could still make Dean wish he was better, wish that he could make things _enough_ for Sam.

 

_That_ , was what Dean needed.

 

xXx

 

Sam leaned up to take Dean’s mouth and instead, found Dean buried inside of him without warning. He let out a hiss of pain and quickly snapped his mouth shut. Dean was always gentle and slow with him. It didn’t matter how much he wanted, or needed it from Sam, he never took it without asking him if he was sure.

 

Every time, until now.

 

His brother was angry and hurt. He wasn’t going to come right out and tell Sam anything, he was going to let his hips and his teeth do the talking for him. He was going to etch his pain out into Sam’s body.

 

Dean’s mouth fell to his throat and nipped at the skin, reminding Sam how literal Dean could be. He felt, more than heard, his brother growl. The only thing Dean would vocalize; growling and panting at best.

 

Sam didn’t have a right to feel this emptiness, to want more from Dean. But he did. He wanted Dean to make him stay, to plead with him. He wanted Dean to just give him something other than physical pleasure.

 

Tears stung the back of his eyes and his throat tightened. He didn’t want to cry, had no more right to cry than he had to feel anything other than relief that Dean hadn’t kicked him aside long before this.

 

He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, hoping he could hide his pain, as his brother’s thrusts came faster and harder, burning him up from the inside out. He couldn’t take it. He thought he could be strong for Dean, but he couldn’t. He needed him to say it.

 

“I won’t go,” he half sobbed. “Tell me not to go Dean. Give me a reason.”

 

That’s all he had to do. All he had to fucking say was _staysammystaywithme_ , and he would never leave.

 

Stanford had nothing on his big brother. If Dean wanted him, needed him, he would stay and never _think_ of Stanford again.

 

Truthfully he didn’t care about Stanford, not really. It was just something to take him out of his screwed up life, something to fix his broken heart when his brother got sick of him. When the guilt and disgust of fucking his baby brother completely ended things, and Dean went back to late nights and easy fucks.

 

He was testing his brother honestly. It had more to do with just returning the favor; he was trying to see just where things were going since he wouldn’t talk about it.

 

The last time he’d tried to bring it up his brother had fucked him on the kitchen table, in their run down apartment, with dad passed out right down the hall. Granted it had been pretty incredible, but it hadn’t answered a goddamn question. So he’d done the only thing he could think of, he’d applied to college. If he applied to college Dean had no choice but to voice his true feelings, whether he was hiding them to protect himself or to protect Sam’s feelings.

 

And if he was hiding them to protect himself, then Sam could do for Dean what he’d always done for him. Make him happy, give him something better. He was doing this for Dean, for both of them.

 

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

 

xXx

 

Dean thrust his hips forward roughly, grunting as his brother sobbed harder. He wanted to give him a reason. Wanted to fuck him until he promised to never leave, never think of leaving him again. But he couldn’t. God, he couldn’t say it to him. Couldn’t ruin Sammy any more than he already had. This was what his brother wanted, had always wanted.

 

Dean wanted to be selfish and greedy. He wanted to demand Sam stay and make him beg for forgiveness. But he couldn’t do it.

 

When it came right down to it, he couldn’t deny Sam what he wanted. No matter how badly it hurt him. The tears staining Sammy’s soft, pink cheeks made sure of that. The pleading look in his eyes, the shaking of his body as he sobbed uncontrollably. He would have ripped his own beating heart from his chest if it would make Sam stop crying. He had to let him go.

 

xXx

 

His thrusts slowed and gentled, his arms gathering Sam up to his chest. Sam froze at first, realizing what this meant and then relaxed as the bittersweet pleasure of his brother inside him took control again. He buried his face in Dean’s neck, trying to control the desperate sobs shaking his body. He’d known this would happen, he had forced a reaction from his brother and it had been the one he’d feared the most.

 

“Baby,” Dean murmured against his ear, his hand stroking down his side.

 

Sam sobbed harder at his brother’s words. He knew Dean was trying to make this easier on him, but God, it hurt so much more to hear him use that endearment. Dean hardly ever said things like that to him; acknowledged that they had something between them other then the normal, brotherly affections. So when he did, it meant all that much more.

 

xXx

 

Dean held him tighter. He was beginning to feel like he was raping Sam. If it weren’t for the sharp jerk of Sam’s hips and the occasional gasp of pleasure he would have thought he was killing him. His cheeks were flushed from crying, tear stained, with fresh tears leaking from his eyes, as his entire body was wracked with sobs.

 

This wasn’t how he wanted their last time together to be. He wanted to have Sammy writhing in pleasure, wanted to make sure his baby brother felt him for weeks after, and remembered who had done it to him as he walked around Stanford’s campus.

 

When the girls, and the guys, were checking out his once geeky little brother, he wanted Sam to remember that none of them could touch him the same way Dean had. Could never make his body crave it, remember it, feel it for weeks.

 

Only Dean.

 

He was selfish. Not selfish enough to keep Sammy here against his will, but selfish enough to want him even while he was thousands of miles away. To want Sam, to want him from thousands of miles away.

 

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered against Sam’s sweat dampened hair. “Really, Sammy.”

 

What he wanted to say was _I love you_ and _stay, baby, stay with me_. Wanted to beg and plead. But he couldn’t. And he wouldn’t.

 

Not until Sam was gone.

 

xXx

 

Dean kissed his temple and pulled out, stroking a hand down his cheek. The only gentle touch he could give him. Sam shivered and watched, unable to speak, as Dean straightened and pulled his clothes up. He wanted to say something to him. Anything at all.

 

But he couldn’t.

 

His heart hurt too much for him to breathe, let alone think properly. All he could do was watch as his brother left the room without a glance in his direction.

 

Dean was angry because Sam was leaving him, but what Dean didn’t get was that he was really the one leaving Sam. It would have taken just two words, just a _stay Sammy_ and he would have stayed without regret.

 

Instead the last words he would hear from Dean were _‘I’m proud of you. Really, Sammy’_. It was the last time he’d be with him.

 

For the next few months Dean wouldn’t even look at him. Spoke to him only when necessary and avoided him all together until it was time for him to go. When he got on that bus to Stanford, his brother gave a brief wave and watched with cool indifference as he left.

 

And broke Sam’s heart all over again.


End file.
